100 Middle-Earth Drabbles
by WeilIchsKann
Summary: My attempt to do the 100 Drabble Challenge. Everyone's favorite dysfunctional family will be featured in most of them. There might also be crack and some trolling. Please PM NirCele for more information and the list of prompts. Rated T because I'm paranoid.
1. Pet

Denethor was sitting in his study, reading through a report. His patience was running rather thin at this point, since whoever had written said report had taken ages to get to the point. When he heard someone running down the corridor outside, he sighed. The door flew open seconds later, making the steward look up.

He had expected to see an annoyed guard, or maybe a servant, about to rant about the newest prank his sons had played. Instead, seven year old Faramir stood in the doorway a small ball of white fur cradled in his arms. "Father, look," he piped and advanced towards his father's desk. "Bo and I found him in the courtyard!" The fur ball meowed and the head of a kitten poked out from between the folds of Faramir's tunic. "Can we keep him? Please?"

Denethor sighed again, as he looked at his younger son's big, pleading eyes. He did not look forward to the mess two boys and a kitten would make around the White Tower. He stood up and walked over to stand in front of his son.

"Please?," Faramir repeated nervously, as he looked up to his father.

"Follow me," the steward began sternly, before breaking into a smile. "Someone needs to warn Braigion, before your little friend gives him a heart attack." A broad grin spread on Faramir's face and he dashed past Denethor with a cheer. The report would have to wait until after dinner.


	2. Your Weapon's Name

"Woah!" Faramir gazed in amazement at the sword his older brother was holding. It was a rather short weapon with a decorated crossguard and the White Tree engraved in the pommel. The blade gleamed in the candle light, as Boromir swung it.

Boromir himself was less happy, since getting this sword meant he had finished his training and would soon be sent on his first mission. There was no reason he would admit that, though. Instead, he offered Faramir the hilt of the weapon with a grin. "Be careful, this one's sharp."

"I know! I'm not a little kid anymore," Faramir scoffed, as he carefully took the sword. "How are you going to call it?"

Boromir shrugged and watched as Faramir moved through the basic guards and strikes. "It's just a sword. It doesn't need a name."

Faramir frowned at his older brother, as he returned the weapon. "But all the great heroes of old named their swords! And Gandalf's has a name too. Glamsomething."

"Glamdring," Boromir supplied. He sheathed the sword. "All right, fine. How about..." He fell silent, as he racked his brain for a fitting name. "How about Celebruin," he finally asked with a pleased smile.

 **My Sindarin is pretty much non-existent, so please tell me, if the name should be built differently.**

 **Lord Illyren: Thank you! I'm glad you like it. Yes, it's scary, but that's part of the challenge, I guess. I'd totally read your stuff!**


	3. Spies

Boromir and Faramir had spent the last couple of days hidden in the bushes, staking out the orc encampment. Now, that they knew the patrol patterns and exact number of guards, it was time to start with the next phase of their plan: Infiltration.

Both of them had changed into armor and mail they had salvaged earlier, with dirt smeared on their faces, so that the eye holes of their helmets wouldn't betray them. They casually walked out of the forest, imitating orc movements as best as they cold - Faramir was doing extremely well on this one.

To their surprise, security was less tight than they had initially thought. The guards currently on duty let them pass without a second glance.

Inside the camp, they were greeted by the sight of brownish tents, a couple of cooking fires spread between them and orcs. Lots of them. No one really cared, as they made their way past a group of hideous creatures who were casually sitting around a fire, enjoying their meal. It felt weird to casually walk through an enemy camp and both of them had to resist the urge to check their swords.

They heard bits and pieces of conversations, some in Westron, some in the black Speech, as they made their way to the biggest tent in the middle of the camp. Bored looking guards were sitting at the entrance.

"Ho do we get in?," Boromir whispered.

"Through the front door," Faramir muttered back. "Let me do the talking."

 **The next drabble will be part 2 of this story.**


	4. Threats

Shaga righted himself on his chair, when he heard his guards talking to someone outside. A moment later the flap of his tent was pushed aside and two Uruks marched in. "What do ya want?," Shaga grumbled. "If it's about your damned pay again, than you can bloody stick it-"

The Uruks exchanged a short glance and the blink of an eye later, Shaga was on the floor. A dirty piece of cloth was in his mouth and the point of a knife was pressed against his throat.

The Uruk holding the knife was the first to speak. "How many men do you have in reserve and when do you plan to attack? Answer quick and your death shall be swift and painless.

Shaga's eyes narrowed as he realized what was going on, but he could only growl and struggle against the broader man's grip. "I told you this would not work," the one holding him said with a shrug. "Just get it over with. I want to get out of here."

"Fine." And with that, the other one slit Shaga's throat.

 **Thanks to Judy for the review! I'm glad you like it and also thanks for looking at the name. That was pretty much what I was going for :D**

 **Part 2 of Spies**


	5. Inner Beauty (Crack Edition!)

**The summary might have lied a tiny bit. I hope you still enjoy this one!**

The waiter offered the customer a friendly but slightly forced smile as he readied his notepad. "Good evening! What can I get you today, Sir?"

"We wants... Err..." The customer crocked his head and blinked. "Fish! Yes! We wants fish, precious. _Gollum,_ _g_ _ollum!_ "

The waiter hesitated, his pen hovering a centimeter or two above the paper. "We have quite a few fish dished. Could you be a little more, err, specific, please?"

A hint of annoyance appeared on the customer's face. "We likes it raw," he hissed with a glint in his eyes. "And juicy-sweet, precious."

"Please don't call me that," the waiter said. This was certainly going to be one of those days, he was sure of it now. He didn't get paid enough to deal with stuff like this. "So you'd like Sushi? Is there anything-" The rest of his sentence was drowned out by an angry hiss.

"We wasn't talking to you," the customer hissed. "Wiggling, precious. Give it to us wiggling!" He bounced up and down on his seat like an overexcited kid on a sugar rush – well, like an incredibly ugly and smelly kid, the waiter thought, as he watched the customer.

"But..." The waiter lowered his notepad with a sigh. This was going to be fun shift. "Sir, I'm sorry, but we don't serve live fish. It would get us in trouble with animal welfare. Can I get you something else?" He made a mental note to ask for a raise the next time he saw his boss.

"Oh." The customer's face fell and he stopped bouncing. "Then we takes the sushises, precious. And a bottle of water, please. _Gollum, gollum_."

 **Thank you for your kind reviews :) I've fixed the mistakes in Ch 1.**


	6. Language Lessons

Faramir yawned as he stared down at his book. It was such a beautiful day, way too nice to sit in a dusty, dark library and study boring old books. His teacher, a man who seemed to be about as old as the books he made Faramir read, had left to fetch more scrolls for them to translate.

He glanced at his brother. Boromir sat bowed over his scroll, deep in concentration. "Hey, Bo," Faramir whispered. "Do you want to come and play hide and seek with the others when we are done?" No response. Faramir blinked in suprise. That was weird. The scroll had to be incredibly intriguing to capture his brother's attention like that. He tried again, curious this time: "What are you reading?"

Once again his question was ignored. Unhappy with that Faramir kicked at his brother's legs under the desk. This caused the older boy to fall forward and face plant right onto his scroll. He lifted his head slowly and blinked owlishly at Faramir. "Wha…?" Boromir groand and rubbed his forehead with a yawn. "What? Sorry, I was reading…" He glanced at the scroll and frowned. "Something about…" His frown deepend. "Stones? No, wait. About how they built the Argonath. What did you want? Man, this scribe has an ugly handwriting."

Faramir could clearly see that the letters on Boromir's scroll were written about as cleanly as they got. Sometimes he wondered how the older boy would ever learn Sindarin if he kept falling asleep during the lessons.


	7. Leaves

Boromir followed the winding path through the city. Only a few rays of stray moon light reached the forest floor and glistened on fallen Mallorn leaves. Faramir would love this, he thought as he passed another huge tree trunk. Unlike his big brother, he probably wouldn't have trouble sleeping here, either.

After finishing his round around the city Boromir considered returning to his tent, but decided against it. As creepy and strange as this elven city might be, it was still the first place since his arrival in Imladris where he felt that his mind was completely free of the shadow the ring cast. While he didn't feel comfortable walking around in the city, part of him dreaded returning to the fellowship's camp even more.

The moon was already beginning to sink when he finally began to make his way back. He paused when he arrived at the outskirts of the clearing. Without a second thought he bowed down and picked up two golden leaves. The few specs of dirt were quickly brushed away before he pocketed them with a small smile.

Faramir would love these.

 **A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys! I'm glad you like it. I hope to get a bit more writing done now that I'm on summer break :)**


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